Hate You, Hate Me
by doomweasel
Summary: Larxene's tired of being treated like dirt by the older members of the Organization. She's sick of Roxas getting special treatment because of the Keyblade. She hates it, she hates him, and it's time she did something. Rated for cursing, threatening langua


Larxene found herself spending more and more time in the library these days. It wasn't that she liked reading – she'd only found one interesting book out of thousands – but there weren't many other places in Castle Oblivion where she could escape the Superior and his little clique. Honestly, she was getting sick and tired of their holier-than-thou attitude and the way they ordered her around like a damned servant. So what if they'd joined the Organization before her? As far as she could tell, they were just as clueless about how to regain their hearts as she was.

With a shake of her head, Larxene settled onto a sofa and opened up her book. _There's no point getting worked up right now, _she reminded herself. _You can't do shit about it anyway, lowly Miss Number Twelve._ Twelve of thirteen, and even then the newcomer was given exceptional treatment because he fought with a stupid key. What had he done that was so special? _Nothing._ Yet Larxene had completed countless missions – never failed one – and was still treated like a neophyte. What a load of bullshit.

By now Larxene wasn't really reading as much as turning the pages while staring blankly ahead. Finally, she gave up on trying to read and tossed the book aside, where it landed on the floor, spine up, like a wounded bird. Still, she didn't want to leave the relative sanctuary of the library. For the next ten minutes she absently shot little bolts of lightning towards the ceiling, trying to hit the cracks. Maybe she'd make the ceiling fall. That'd be interesting...

Suddenly, Larxene felt a presence enter the room. She recognized the distinctive aura immediately – Number Thirteen. Roxas. _Perfect. Just perfect._

Larxene set her face in cold stare as Roxas rounded the corner. "What the hell do _you_ want, Number Thirteen?" she growled.

Roxas looked just as pleased to see her as she of him. "I was looking for Axel," he replied curtly.

_Of course you are_, Larxene thought, rolling her eyes. "He's not here."

"I can _see_ that. Where _is_ he, then?"

Instead of answering, Larxene sat forward and peered intently at Roxas, her chin resting in her hand, her fingers tapping against her cheek. She stared at him for several seconds, and when he began to shift uncomfortably she said, "So what's so special about you, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

Larxene stood and began to circle the younger Nobody like a predator sizing up potential prey. "Why the hell does the Superior think you're so special? You're just a skinny little blond kid with a key." She stopped behind him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sure, you're a good fighter – but so are Saïx and Xaldin. _Most_ of us are as good as you – probably better."

Roxas turned to face Larxene, eyeing her suspiciously. "Most, maybe, but not all," he said, sneering.

_Why you little..._ Sparks danced across Larxene's clenched fist and she clenched her jaw. But, of course, Larxene's anger wasn't real, and she quickly calmed down. "And that's another thing," she continued, pulling out one of her kunai. She began to play with the blade, very casually, deliberately keeping her gaze fixed on the weapon. "You have no respect for your superiors. I should punish you for your impudence." She glanced up at Roxas only briefly, but there could not have been more malice in that glimpse. Though it went unsaid, the message was clear: _I'd gladly kill you in an instant._

Though he didn't summon his keyblade right away, Roxas flexed his hand as he readied himself for battle. "I'd like to see you try," he snarled.

The two Nobodies stared at each other for several long seconds. Larxene grew more irritated the longer she looked at Roxas. Everything about him – his scowl, his posture, his cold blue eyes – seemed to exude an arrogance that she found absolutely infuriating. _It'd be so easy,_ she thought. _I'm way faster than him. I could kill him before he even gets a chance to summon his stupid keyblade. _Then she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore – with his insolence, his self-righteousness, his special treatment from Axel and the others.

Yet... Larxene couldn't bring herself to strike. Her hand seemed frozen, unable to move. She suddenly realized that, somewhere in the hollow void of her chest, she was afraid. Afraid of what Xemnas would do once he found out, afraid of Axel's furious retribution... most of all, she was afraid that she would not succeed. She couldn't fool herself; Roxas _was_ a superior fighter. If they fought, it was possible – no, _likely_ – that he would win. It wasn't even the possibility of death that frightened her. It was the idea of losing to the one person in the Organization that she outranked.

Roxas must have seen Larxene's hesitation in her eyes because he relaxed and, smirking, left without a word to continue looking for Axel. Soon, Larxene felt his presence vanish, and she was alone once again.

"AAAAAAARH!" A giant bolt of lightning arced across the room and decimated a shelf of books. The smell of ozone and burning paper filled the air as Larxene cast spell after spell, not caring what she hit as long as something was destroyed. When the library was demolished to her satisfaction, Larxene finally stopped. Her arms limp at her sides, her breath coming in short gasps, she stared at the flawless marble floor. She wished she could cry, but, of course, she was a Nobody and crying was out of the question. "I hate you," she whispered, her voice tight with anger. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."


End file.
